Gone // Spider-Man: Far From Home [Book 4]

twenty-three {Peter's POV}

My head dropped to the side and I woke up with a start. My mind was clouded and I had trouble remembering what the hell had happened, but when I opened my eyes, all I could think was, where was I?

I looked to my left and saw two men dressed in orange outfits. One of them wasn't wearing a shirt and had his torso painted orange. "Hi," the one closest to me said cheerfully. 

"Where am I?" I asked quietly.

"Municipal holding facility," the man painted orange said. He spoke with a bit of an accent.

"They said they found you unconscious at the train yard," the other said. "Very dangerous." 

"We gave you the shirt because you seemed a bit cold," a third man to my right said, startling me, and only now, I noticed the orange football shirt that was covering me. 

"Thanks," I muttered. "You guys are nice. You speak really good English." 

The three of them grinned and said, "Welcome to the Netherlands!" 

"I'm in the Netherlands right now?" I asked, feeling my heart drop. 

"Yep," the man to my right said. 

"Arya..." I muttered to myself before turning to the men. "Was a girl brought in by any chance? Brown hair, a black suit like mine?" I asked. 

They shook their heads. "No, you were the only one," one said. 

I grumbled a few words before jumping up, immediately groaning at the pain in my leg. "Guard?" I called at the bars of the holding cell.

"The guard is on a break. Probably talking to his wife," one of the men said. 

"Yeah, she's pregnant," the one next to him added. 

"Oh, ja?" the right one asked. "Wat leuk!" I assumed this was Dutch because I had no clue what it meant. 

I discovered a thick lock on the door and broke it in half with just a little tug. I tossed it to the ground and the men fell silent. I opened the door and got out, stopping at the entrance to the guard's office, finding him with my mask on as he talked on the phone. I frowned before ignoring him and making a beeline for the exit. 

I stepped into bright daylight and found myself on some form of farmers' market. I pulled the orange football shirt over my head to blend in a little and limped to the first stand that reached my view. I stood in a pile of cow poop on my way there but that was just a tiny drop in the bucket of problems I had to fix.

"Excuse me, Sir?" I asked the vendor as I saw him typing on his phone.

"Yeah?" the man asked, looking up. 

"Could I borrow your phone?" I questioned. 

"Ja, zeker," he said, smiling as he placed the device in my palm.

"Everyone is so nice here," I muttered before I started to dial Arya's number, but then I realized she didn't have her phone with her. I removed the digits and replaced them with Happy Hogan's number. "Pick up, pick up, pick up, come on," I rambled to myself, running a hand through my tangled hair. 

"Peter?" Happy's voice said. 

"Is that Peter?" I heard Arya's voice in the background. 

"Ry?" I asked.

"Peter, is that you?" her voice asked, closer this time. 

"Yeah, it's me. Thank God, you're okay,"  I told her. 

"You too, where are you?"  She sounded like she was crying, and my own throat tightened.

"Where am I?" I turned to the vendor. "Where am I, sir?" 

"This is Broek op Langedijk," he told me and I stared at him for a second before handing him the phone. 

"Could you say that in here, please?" 

He repeated the name of the town we were in before I was given the phone. "Thank you," I muttered. "Did you get that?" 

"Yeah, we're on our way. We'll be there in thirty minutes. Just hang on, okay?" Arya said. 

"I will, thank you," I mumbled. 

"Okay, see you in a bit." 

"See you." I ended the call and handed the man the phone. "Thank you so much." 

"No problem. Maybe go to a doctor," he suggested, motioning to me from top to bottom. 

"I will, thanks." I smiled thinly before limping out of the square and to a calmer spot where I found a bench to sit on.

A while later, the sound of the quinjet flying over my head woke me up from my half-asleep state. I sprang up, again forgetting the pain in my leg before I hobbled after the jet that flew to the tulip field behind the town's square. 

It landed in the middle of the field, killing about a thousand flowers in the process, and the front hatch opened. Arya sprinted out with Happy following. 

"Peter! Are you okay?" she yelled.

I held out a hand, squinting into the sun. "Arya, is that you?" 

"Wh- Yeah, it's me. Beck's not here, Pete," she responded, slowing down.

"Stop!" I shouted, and both stopped in their tracks. "Tell me something only you would know." 

Happy stared at Arya for a second before turning back to me. "Remember when we went to Germany? You pay-per-viewed a video in your room and it didn't list the titles but I could tell by the price it was an adult film at the front desk and you didn't know how I knew-" 

"Okay, okay, okay, it's you, stop!" I called, feeling my cheeks flush and I could see Arya holding amusement in her eyes. 

I glanced at her and she just said, "I love you to Bob and back." 

I smiled, my eyes watering as I limped up to her, locking her in a tight hug. "Ry, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry about everything. I never should've kept you out of it. I love you and I'm so sorry," I rambled, tears streaming down my face. 

"It's okay, it's okay. I forgive you. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have freaked out like that," she replied, choking back sobs. "I thought you were dead," she whispered. 

"I'm okay, I'm here," I said, squeezing her tightly. 

She drew back from the hug and held my face in her hands. "I was so worried about you," she whispered, tracing her finger over the gash on my cheek. She pressed her lips to mine.

We drew back breathless what felt like minutes later. "Are we okay?" she asked as she rested her forehead against mine. 

I nodded. "Yeah, we're okay." I smiled, hugging her once more before turning to Happy. "It's so good to see you. Thank you," I said, hugging him too.

"Pete, you're bleeding," Arya spoke up, tracing her finger down the back of my neck. I winced and jumped back. "Sorry," she said and I saw her fingers were smeared with blood. My blood. "Let's get you on the jet."